


Space Buddies: My Star Trek Gen Ficlets

by asimaiyat



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Commentary, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Meta, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimaiyat/pseuds/asimaiyat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are just a bunch of porn-free, warning-free gen ficlets starring the Enterprise bridge crew. Pretty much everything I've written that's gen and under 1000 words fits here. Some mildly angsty, most just goofy fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lager, Never Even Regal

Nyota slammed the empty bottle of Budweiser down on the bar, and immediately motioned for another round. Gaila looked at her with skeptical eyebrows.

"We are _having_ another _round_ ," said Nyota, her voice precise and controlled. Nyota's hair was coiled on top of her head in hundreds of little braids, and they felt tight and heavy against her skull, and she hoped that one more American Classic would make her feel less like every part of her was tightly wound up. Her short strapless dress wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, either, but it had to be less of a pain than Gaila's jewel-encrusted bikini top and multilayered silky skirt. Say what you will about Orions, they know how to dress for a black-tie occasion. Most of the guys in the dingy little campus watering hole seemed unsure how to respond to two beautiful, angry women in evening wear -- they kept checking them out, but out of the corners of their eyes.

"Thanks for everything, Ny, but I -- " Gaila's face crumpled a little bit for the second time tonight, but this time it dissolved into an embarrassed smile. "I don't actually know how you can stand this stuff. Look:" she held up her bottle, which was still almost full, and shrugged an apology. "It tastes like water from the wrong side of a dam."

Nyota laughed. "I know, okay? But I practically grew up on cheap lager. Back in my hometown in the Bantu province, there's... well, it's a dive bar, but outdoors. Ceiling fans, music playing from a boombox, umbrellas in everything... and cheap pitchers, obviously. I had a cousin who was a football player, a goalie for the city team, and the rest of us would all go to their games, and then go to the bar afterward and get one of those pitchers and talk trash about the team that beat them."

"I'm not sure that I understand."

"I'm not sure I do, either." Nyota took a swig of her beer. "I just thought that it would be nice to think about being in my tank top and cut-offs, in a shitty outdoor bar on a hot day, instead of at some overrated circle jerk glorified high school _awards night_ \--"

"But it was such a pretty party." Gaila frowned. "It really was. Champagne and everything. And I had to go and screw it up for all of --"

Nyota cut her off with a couple of choice words of Klingon. "Don't you dare. I wanted you there. And everyone else did, too. The gala was supposed to be in honor of the crew of the Enterprise, and the crew of the Enterprise -- _madre de dios_ , the Captain of the Enterprise -- wanted you there with us. I still can't believe those _g'bila_ security guys dared to say you didn't belong at the head table with us bridge crew."

"Nyota. Your Standard --"

"God, I'm sorry, I go all multilingual when I'm worked up."

"It's okay. But Nyota, I _didn't_ belong at that table. You were the heroes. I wasn't there. I didn't help. I don't know how I ever thought I deserved to sit up there."

"Bullshit. What you went through on the Farragut was harder than anything any of us did -- yes, even Captain Kirk. You were all alone, and you survived, and for so long you must have thought that you'd lost us, too. I thought I'd lost you. And even before that, the things you've survived to get here, to Starfleet -- I won't let anyone tell you you're not a hero. Just because you aren't the face on all the holoscreens. How damn shallow can people be?"

"Thank you, but ... you guys saved the world."

"We got lucky. I mean, sort of. If you'd been assigned to the ship, you'd have saved the world, too. And you'd be up there -- " Nyota pulled out her comm and checked the time -- "right about now, standing up there on the podium listening to Kirk giving his acceptance speech."

Gaila cracked another smile, and took a tentative sip of her beer. She barely made a face this time. "On that thought, maybe I'm glad we left."

"Watch your mouth! I wrote that speech," Nyota mock-scolded, unable to keep a straight face.

"You did not!"

"Fine, but I did proofread extensively. And rephrased a few key sections."

Gaila watched Nyota's face as the muscles around her eyes started to finally release their tension. She put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Nyota?"

"Yes?"

"Do I have to drink the rest of this?"

Nyota tried once again to look serious. "If you want me to buy you a decent drink next, then yeah, you have to at least finish the first bottle. Those are the rules."

Gaila sighed. "The champagne looked so nice and bubbly."

"Yeah, but I'd rather drink dam water with _you_."

"I guess," said Gaila, "I might as well drink to that."


	2. Extreeeeeme!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hikaru and Jim are adrenaline-seeking bffs. (for a kink meme prompt)

The steep hill (or maybe mountain, given the size of the planet) ended in an abrupt drop-off of about thirty feet, at which somebody had thoughtfully build a jump. Hikaru let his board fall away from his feet as he somersaulted through the planet's low-gravity atmosphere, falling fast enough to get a rush but not enough to break any bones on landing. He twisted in midair to land on his feet -- and promptly fall on his ass -- in a pile of impossibly fluffy, vaguely lavender-tinted snow, and executed a little rolling maneuver to avoid being hit by his falling board. He glanced at the spot a few feet over where Kirk was lying in the middle of a severely deformed snow angel, laughing and trying to catch his breath at the same time.

"Holy crap!," Hikaru panted. "Can we do that again?"

"Hell yeah, as many times as we can afford. Best snowboarding in this galaxy, I'd say."

"I'm not sure. I liked that place where the four-foot spikes pop up out of the ground at random intervals."

"That's because you, my friend, are sick and evil."

Hikaru raised an eyebrow. "That would be why you hang out with me, right?"

As they hiked back to the lounge to buy another hour on the slopes (and check out the scene for cute snow bunnies -- for Kirk -- and buff ski instructors -- for Hikaru), he idly considered how bored their crewmates must be, having universally opted to spend their leave time, of all things, relaxing.


	3. Feed a Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George and Winona take in ailing Academy TA Chris Pike. Sick!fic.

"George? You're home early --" Winona stuck her head into the front hall. "And what do we have here?"

It wasn't hard to guess who George was mostly-carrying in, despite his identity being obscured by George's oversized hooded coat, which he was swaddled in.

"About a hundred and fifty pounds of half-alive TA -- and what I'm sure is a fascinating specimen of a live flu virus colony. Poor kid showed up after class to help with grading. I hope you don't mind, I just felt like a heel leaving him in a dorm room."

Winona pulled the hood off of Chris's head and placed a hand on his forehead. His eyes were red around the edges, and his face was shiny with sweat. "You're burning up. George, why didn't you take him to the hospital?"

"I went," Chris, well... croaked. "They gave me a hypo, but they said it takes a couple days to work."

"Great," Winona muttered. "Okay, let's get you lying down. You like soup?"

"Soup sounds good." Chris's voice wasn't more than a hoarse whisper, but she got the general idea.

"George? Replicate us some chicken noodle soup, okay? The code for Grandma Kirk's recipe is 1-1-9-7-4-2. I'm going to find some blankets."

Winona went digging through the hall closet. She wasn't the type to drape a lot of blankets and cushions over all the furniture, but she knew there were some in there. George's family were always sending afghans and things for the holidays. Sure enough, there were three at the back of the closet, behind a box full of scuffed-up old boots that would be perfectly good if anyone had ever had the time to clean them up.

When she got back to the living room, George had gotten his coat, as well as a severely rumpled cadet jacket, off of Chris, and helped him lie down on the couch. She tossed the blankets over him and sat down as best she could, perching on the edge of the seat.

"Now, Chris. Did the doctor say if you aren't allowed to drink while the hypo's taking effect?"

"Nnnn... no, don't think so." Chris pulled the blankets up around him, and sneezed."

"Great. George?"

"Yes, honey?"

"When you're done with the soup, why don't you replicate us three hot rum toddies? I'm going to put that movie you boys like on the holo. Top Gun?"

"Mrs. Kirk?"

"Shut up, Chris. You need to rest your throat.

Chris whispered. "I think I love you, Mrs. Kirk."

"Shut up, Chris," George yelled from the kitchen.


	4. Epic Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen ficlet in memory of William Safire, the speechwriter, linguist and one of my earliest writing inspirations.

Jim had seen a lot of memorials and monuments by now, and he had to admit that the one for the _Farragut_ crew was a nice one, as they went. Just a big bronze wall, behind a small fountain, and if you looked at it the right way you could see reflected the names and (smiling, promising) yearbook pictures of everyone who'd left with the ship, who hadn't come back. In front there was a little plaque, easy to miss if you were just walking by without paying attention. The full bridge crew of the _Enterprise_ stood a few feet back from the plaque, seeming to have settled without discussion on a moment of silence.

"' _In ancient days, men looked at the stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic men of flesh and blood._ ' An accurate observation, but I must confess that I am unfamiliar with the quotation." 

Nyota placed a hand on Spock's upper arm. "That's because it's from a speech that was never given," she said. "Back in the twentieth century. When the first human ship landed on Earth's moon, the writer William Safire wrote a speech for the President to give in case the astronauts didn't survive. A eulogy. They made it home safely, of course, so the speech is sort of like... another artifact from an alternate timeline." 

"You really do know everything, don't you?" said Jim.

"I wish. I know the speech because I read a lot of Safire's work when I was doing my high school senior thesis on Imperialism and the English and French languages. He was a brilliant etymologist."

Jim frowned for a minute, staring at the plaque. "You know, it's hard for me to believe sometimes that space travel started out as this whole international dick-waving competition. Imagine being in the first generation to have this technology, to be able to explore other planets for the first time in your world's history, and having these amazingly brave guys facing the real possibility that they're going to sacrifice their lives just for the sake of knowing that it's possible... and your first thought is 'we can use this to beat the Russians!'"

"In the twentieth century, your people were not aware of the existence of life on other planets. It is quite a leap of logic to expect them to realize that hundreds of years later, the officers giving their lives in space would be doing so in order to save the Earth itself. If I recall correctly, at that point in Earth history it was widely believed that the planet would be destroyed by hostilities between human nations."

"Yeah, I guess that makes it hard to judge why they did anything. So much for logic, huh?"

"Human history is not a good subject to dwell on for those who appreciate logic."

"It is a shame that after all that, they did not get there first."

"Sorry?" asked Nyota.

"I mean, for Apollo II. That the Russians landed on the moon first, yes?"

"Uh, yeah. It was a great national disappointment for us. Now come on, we're all going to be late for the ceremony."


	5. Sometimes You Just Want To Be A Person

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexual innuendo on the bridge gets a little out of hand.

Jim leaned over Chekov's console to review the path he'd planned through the asteroid belt, and gave a tense nod. "Well, Mr. Sulu, it's a tight fit, but I think you can handle it. Right?"

Sulu snickered. Chekov blushed. Jim just sighed. "Now, how did I not see that one coming?"

"Is that what she said last night?" Yeoman Rand asked, hiding her mouth behind her hand.

" _Guys_. Really. Can we have some discipline here? Things are hard enough without --"

"Captain, if I were to be in your position I would not have chosen those particular words."

That was Spock. SPOCK. Making a sexual innuendo. A fairly awkward one, but still -- that was the moment when Jim just lost it. He strode out to the middle of the bridge and folded his arms.

"Okay, I have officially had enough of this. I know I'm good-looking. I know I like to have a bit of fun. And I know I don't have a wife and kids and a couple of golden retrievers back home to make people feel weird about looking at me that way. And I like that. I mean, that's who I want to be. But seriously, it doesn't mean that I'm going to be okay with getting treated like the punchline to a dirty joke all the goddamn time. There's a time and a place, ya know? And right now, I'm trying to help save all of our asses, so I really don't think this is the time or place. We clear?"

"We get it," said Sulu, "But you have to admit, you do it on purpose. It's your whole persona. How else are we supposed to react?"

Uhura finally raised her eyes from her console and turned around. "Really? He's asking for it? No, the Captain's right. I should know. Win one drinking contest and everyone thinks you're just one of the frat boys, only with nicer legs and a shorter uniform." She sighed. "It's not that it's so terrible to be the hot chick, but honestly, sometimes you want to just be a person."

Jim offered Uhura a high five for that. She hesitated for a second, and then returned it enthusiastically. "Exactly! Or, in this case, I want to be _your boss_. You know, that guy you listen to because he knows what he's talking about and has gotten you out of worse straits than this?"

"Okay, okay, no more harassing the captain." Sulu raised a hand in the universal gesture for "cease fire." "But I've gotta know, Uhura: what is the deal with the skirt? I understand not liking the attention, hell, I probably wouldn't like it either, but last I heard female officers have the option to wear pants. What gives with that?"

"Hey, if you have to stay in shape to pass a Starfleet physical once a year, you might as well show it off." Uhura smirked. "And besides, tight pants plus synthetic fibers plus lady parts. You want to ask Doctor McCoy to do that math for you?"

Sulu and Chekov both flinched so hard that their chairs bounced back.

And it was never, ever spoken of again.


End file.
